


Knight in Shining Armor? More Like Mullet in Ugly Uniform with Hugeass Knife (or Maybe Not, 'Cause That's a Mouthful)

by ablondeweasley



Series: And That Was How it All Began [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 23:39:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11301204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ablondeweasley/pseuds/ablondeweasley
Summary: "I got stuck in a Porta Potty and was rescued by a hot stranger" AU





	Knight in Shining Armor? More Like Mullet in Ugly Uniform with Hugeass Knife (or Maybe Not, 'Cause That's a Mouthful)

Jesus Fuck.

Lance wasn’t really sure how it happened.

It was all Hunk’s fault, really-he’d gotten them lost in the corn maze, after all. And then it had grown dark and they’d gotten out just from climbing the haystacks and sprinting down row after row, fueled by the corn dogs they’d eaten earlier and adrenaline.

And then the fair was closing, but Lance really had to pee, so Hunk waited in the car while Lance waited in the Porta Potty line.

Lance had been grateful, at first, that the line had consisted of him and two others, but now he was fucking stuck in the Porta Potty, and no one was outside, and Hunk wasn’t answering his phone.

It smelled really bad in here, and the plastic was warm to the touch from soaking up the hot sun all day long, and Lance was starting to hyperventilate.

He pushed and pushed on the lock, pushed ’til the pads of his fingers turned red and then white, but the lock was stuck.

_Breathe, Lance, breathe._

The red on the top half of the latch spelling out “locked” was quickly becoming Lance’s least favorite color.

_How long have I been in here?_

Fuck it. It was time to go all out.

“Hello! Help! Somebody? I’m stuck in this fucking Porta Potty! Is anybody out there?!”

Lance kept yelling, all the while banging on the warm plastic door, the slivers of starlight peeking out from underneath and around the edges taunting him mercilessly.

Ninja kick after ninja kick, and still the door wouldn’t budge.

 _I’m going to die in a Porta Potty,_ Lance tried to swallow down the panic rising up his throat. _Well, no-they’ll find me tomorrow. When does the fair open? 9:00? Fuck._

It looked like Lance was spending the night in the Porta Potty.

But then-a knock.

“Anyone in here?” Came the tired voice, and wow, Lance had never been more excited to hear another human voice in his life.

“Yes, yes!” He hoarsed out, his voice cracking on the last “yes.”

There was a pause outside. “Wait, really?”

Lance repeated desperately, “Yeah, I’m stuck! Please help!”

Lance could see the toes of a pair of combat boots shuffled hesitantly in the grass. “This isn’t a prank of some sort?”

“Jesus fuck, please let me out, man! I’m stuck in a goddamn Porta Potty!”

He must have imagined the giggle on the other side-no one could be that cruel. No, he must’ve imagined it as the employee outside warned him, “step back from the door.”

What the fuck was he gonna do? Also, one couldn’t exactly “step back from the door” in a fucking _Porta Potty!_

“Umm, I’ll try…” Lance braced both feet on the sides of the toilet seat and hunkered down so he wouldn’t hit his head on the roof just as a rough sound, kind of like sawing, began.

Something moving around the edges of the Porta Potty door was glimmering in the moonlight. Was it a knife of some sort? Where would this dude, if it was a dude, get a knife? Wasn’t it, like, _illegal_ to bring in just a Swiss Army knife? And this knife looked fucking long, like an ancient dagger or some shit.

_What the fuck?_

The Porta Potty door suddenly fell forward into the grass, and Lance stepped out, blinking and breathing in the fresh air.

He was halfway through his second deep breath when his eyes adjusted, and he couldn’t help but let out a strangled gasp.

“That was incredibly pathetic,” said his savior. But Lance couldn’t even come up with a witty response looking at the pale, almost gray in the moonlight, boy in front of him. Dark hair, thick, dark eyebrows, sharp jaw, and sharper cheekbones… and oh God, his eyes-- a black that burned with violet, like galaxies colliding. _Jesus fuck._ And the worst thing was, Lance didn’t understand how the guy could make his horrible orange and black striped uniform look good, and, holy fuck, the dude was holding a three-foot-long knife, with carvings and jewels covering the handle.

Lance was pretty sure his jaw was moving, but no words were coming out of his mouth. How was he so _pretty?_ How could someone wear that uniform and look _exhausted_ and have a fucking _huge-ass knife in their hands_ , and yet still leave Lance McClain, womanizer extraordinaire, completely speechless?

“You okay? The Porta Potty fumes get to you?” The guy cocked his head, and holy shit, was that a mullet peeking out from underneath his uniform pumpkin hat?

Those shitty fumes (in both sense of the word; ha-ha puns) must’ve gotten to Lance, because no way could a mullet ever look good.

And shit, according to the purple name tag on Gorgeous Knife-Wielding Mullet’s chest, his name was Keith.

What a god-awful, extremely attractive name.

“Umm, hello? Do I need to call someone? How long were you even in there?”

Lance could finally speak again, “I…don’t know.”

The guy-Keith bit his lip, and wow, that was hot, but then Keith full on started laughing. Lance was kinda freaking out, because that sound was the type you heard when the clouds parted to reveal angels singing, and also Keith was _laughing at him._

It was pretty pathetic, though, and Lance couldn’t help but join in.

When they finished, both of them tearing up, Keith wiped at his eyes and said, “You should probably get home, now. We’re officially closed and almost everyone's headed home.”

Keith was right. But wow, Lance was finding that he didn’t want to leave this broken Porta Potty and knife wielding, gorgeous, muleteer employee behind.

“Thanks a lot, man,” Lance cleared his throat, “for helping me and all.”

Keith cracked a smile. “Glad I could save you from the evil clutches of the big, bad Porta Potty.”

Lance rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling, “And, uh, what’s with the knife? I mean, lucky me that you had it, but…?”

Wow, Lance was glad it was still light enough to see the flush that blossomed across Keith’s extremely chiseled cheekbones before Keith looked away. “It’s kind of a long story….”

“Oh.”

“…but maybe I could tell it to you over coffee, or something? I mean, you do owe me big time now.”

Holy shit, knife-waving, mullet-rocking Keith was also smooth as hell. Smoother than Lance, even. _Wow._

“Yeah, that’d be great!” Lance tried to keep his enthusiasm contained, but his voice was still slightly hoarse and came out a bit higher than usual. (More like an octave higher; not that Lance would ever admit it.) “When are you free?”

Keith looked backed at him, grinning, and wow, Lance was already 100% fucked. “How about Friday? I get off early, at 12:00.”

“Sounds good,” Lance grinned back, “I’ll give you my number.”

Keith flushed again, Jesus, and dug around in his back pocket to bring out a _fucking Nokia, Jesus Christ._ “What is it?”

Lance gave it to him, barely keeping it together at the way Keith had to type. _Holy shit._

“I guess I’d better get going. Dunno why my friend didn’t pick up his phone; he’s supposed to be waiting for me in the car.”

Keith’s brow wrinkled, and he turned to look across the field towards the parking lot. “I guess you’d better.” he agreed, his edges kissed in moonlight. Fuuuuuck.

“I’ll text you!” Lance yelled over his shoulder, running because if he didn’t go now he probably wouldn’t leave, and also because this place was scary as fuck at night. (Like an actual horror movie, with all of the clown rides and the maze and especially with Keith and his fucking dagger. But then again, if this was a horror movie, then Lance had no problem being the first victim. Sign him up for a gruesome death any day, if it was Keith who was coming for him.)

His last glimpse was of Keith standing in the field, the Porta Potty door at his feet and his knife glimmering in the light of the swollen moon.

✩✦✩✦

“Hunk, why the _fuck_ didn’t you answer your phone?” Lance screamed through the rolled down window when he got back to the parking lot, his breath fogging up the glass.

“I was asleep! Sorry, man! You took a really long time…” Hunk looked both apologetic and confused.

“I got stuck in the fucking _Porta Potty_ , but then I got saved by an incredibly hot employee with a huge knife and a mullet and a fucking Nokia-“

“Pics or it didn’t happen!” Pig suddenly chirped from where they were bundled up in the back seat, the eerie light of their phone making their face shadowed and green.

“Pidge?!” Both Lance and Hunk exclaimed, because they had no idea the fucking gremlin had stowed away and _been here this whole time._

But later, when Lance finally finished with his whole retelling and Pidge laughed both maniacally and unbelieving (“pics or it didn’t happen,” they told him again) and Hunk finished exclaiming “Holy cow!” at various intervals, Lance felt his phone buzz.

_**Hey, this is Keith.** _

Lance grinned, _**hey Keith this is Lance ;D ;D ;D**_ (not using emojis because Keith had a fucking Nokia.)

And that was how it all began.


End file.
